


nightmares/dreams

by brokenlittleboy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, First Time, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, S9, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1491733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlittleboy/pseuds/brokenlittleboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam comes to comfort Dean after he has a nightmare. Things escalate, and Dean's pretty sure he's in a dream instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	nightmares/dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [nightmares/dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1883127) by [bulingki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulingki/pseuds/bulingki)



This was the third time in two fucking hours.

He’d been dead-on-his-feet tired, eyes red and movements slow. He never thought he’d see the day, but he’d been researching excessively, obsessively, and against Sam’s wishes, apparently— the kid would come by and ask him to stop until he’d conked out himself around one.

Around three thirty Dean finally forced himself to close the book— he hadn’t been paying attention to the words anyway, skimming the same lines over and over again. He’d stifled a yawn, padded to his room, and decided that sleep wasn’t all that overrated. The moment he plopped down onto the bed (memory foam!) he was out cold.

But then had come the dreams with no coherency, no real sights. Just feelings of hunger, the smell of blood, and a bone-blade cold in his hand.

Oh yeah, and Dean’s favorite sound, Sam screaming.

He’d often thought writers like Stephen King were bullshitting when protagonists consistently woke up in “cold sweats”, but he’d been proven wrong. The dreams rattled him so much he’d sat straight up and pushed all the covers off, sitting there and letting his eyes adjust to the gloom for several minutes.

The second time, he awoke burning hot and shaking, but still doused in sweat. His throat felt raw and sore, but he wasn’t the kind to make sounds in his sleep like Sam did when he was little. He attributed it to dehydration, but he was too exhausted to grab a glass of water. Whatever. As a sort of armistice with himself, he pulled the sheet back up around his shoulders, and closed his eyes, willing himself to relax.

_Damn it._

He was hot again, hotter than the last time, and the sheets were absolutely fucking stifling him. He tried to reach over and pull them away, and found he couldn’t. Jesus, why was it so fucking hot?

Whatever had decided to trap him here made a little whiney noise, sort of like a kitten, and then something brushed against his chin. Hair.

Hair?

It smelled familiar, homey.

_Sam._

His first instinct was to freeze up. Sam was sound asleep, holding Dean close to him with all available appendages like a fucking octopus. Sam, being a natural furnace, was the source of most of his sweat— not the nightmare this time. Dean’s heart beat out an uneasy rhythm in his chest. A million questions raced through his head at the same pace. Why was Sam here? Why was he…. cuddling him? They hadn’t done this in years. Not since they were kids. 

"Relaaax," Sam drawled, voice muffled by Dean’s collarbone. Sam’s breath cut across his skin, and he tried not to move. "If you’re having another nightmare, I swear to  _god…”_ he trailed off, and Dean felt him yawn.

"Sam." Dean bit out, still tense. "What are you doing?"

"I’m cuddling you, idiot," Sam replied, and his voice was chiding. His tone made it sound as if  this sort of thing were normal or casual or  _obvious._  Dean blinked. “This is how you calmed me down when I started yelling in my sleep, so I thought I’d try it out. Calm you down,”

Oh.

Dean felt something warm for Sam flutter in his chest, and he let him self calm down, if minisculely. Sam must’ve detected that with his creepy little brother skills, because he chose that moment to use the leg slung across Dean’s waist to pull him closer and bury his head in the crook of Dean’s neck. He sighed, and Dean’s arm moved of its own volition from under Sam to around him, resting lightly on his back. 

Dean couldn’t get himself to let this go. It was so out of the blue. “But Sam…” he began, and felt Sam’s eyelashes against his chest as he blinked, “this isn’t really something we… or uh,  _fully-grown siblings_ … usually do,”

"Like we’re the poster children for normal siblings," Sam told him immediately. Dean didn’t respond, so Sam felt the need to explain himself. It had sounded like a great idea in theory, and he’d fantasized about Dean snuggling back and going to sleep peacefully, but now he felt a red flush creep up his neck. "And y’know… i sorta missed this. And you were freaking out, man. I won’t say ‘keening’ to protect your pride. And you might’ve, um, called out my name. So I wanted to help, okay? And not only that… I’ve um. Missed you, too. The blade n’ stuff."

Sam’s confession was met with silence, and he swallowed thickly, hoping to god he didn’t just fuck everything up. He was wide awake now, and had begun to surreptitiously pull himself off of Dean. His eyes burned.

Dean was hung up on the word ‘stuff’. He had no misconceptions about the other fucked up stuff that had gone down between them in the past few months. A little roil of guilt stirred in his stomach, and with a start he realized that Sam was reaching out to him. Reconciliation.

Of course, this wasn’t a cure-all. This didn’t excuse anything. If anything, this was a shitty band-aid, and he’d have to rip it off sooner or later. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t have this, right?

"Oh, uh, right," Dean sputtered out quickly. "You’re right. Of course." Before he thought really hard about what he was doing, he grabbed Sam’s thigh and tugged him back across Dean. Sam made a surprised sound. "Fuck. Shit. Sorry. I just meant… don’t leave. I want this too, kiddo. You’re okay. I’m not mad, I swear. I just… c’mere," confidence gone right out the window- how did Sam always do that- his voice had tapered off to a quiet whisper.

Sam laughed and scooted closer, curling an arm around Dean’s torso, which he belatedly realized was bare. Sam had a thin sleeping t-shirt on, but it was old and too small and didn’t keep any secrets. It rode up easily, and much of Sam’s belly and hips were skin-to-skin with Dean, warm and soft. “I think we’re shit at talking,” Sam joked.

"Well… three A.M. cuddle sessions could count as progress," Dean replied lightly, earning a chuckle out of Sam. The casual nature of their conversation and how normal it felt to have Sam  _here_ with him caused him to relax completely, and his fingers went up and down Sam’s spine, from skin to cloth to skin again. He could feel Sam’s heartbeat, which was steady like his own.

They were quiet for a moment. A grandfather clock that neither of them knew the location of chimed in the distance, filling the gap.

When that too passed, Sam broke the silence.

"But, uh… are you okay though?" his voice was small.

"What do you mean?"

"Well first off, you’re having  _nightmares,_  Dean. That’s freaking me out. And you said my name. This has to do with the blade, right? I thought I could help by uh… but now that sounds like a stupid idea. I just… I want you to be alright. So if you’re uncomfortable and you want me to back off, that’s fine. But it doesn’t stop me from worrying about you.”

Dean felt a number of emotions rise in his throat.

"No, kiddo," he said, softer than before. "You’re doing just fine. This does help. Thank you, Sammy."

"You don’t need to thank me," Sam muttered. "You just need to be alright."

Dean smiled into the darkness, tears stinging at his eyes. That he ended up with a brother like Sam… a surge of love tore through him. The kid was too selfless for his own good. Even with everything that’s happened, how tired he is, he had the strength to watch over Dean. Dean was proud of him. More than that, even.

"I will try," Dean said, voice breaking, "for you."

Sam shifted and looked up at him, eyes bright. He smiled at Dean. “Good,” he whispered.

Dean kissed him.

He didn’t have an excuse, or a thought-out reason. It was pretty much instinct. The things he felt for his brother didn’t warrant much consideration.

But when Sam pulled away, Dean felt the first strike of fear. This wasn’t something you just ignore or move on from. Oh god. Sam’s gonna hate him. Sam’s gonna think he’s a freak. More than that, he’s going to leave. What the fuck did he just do? That was stupid. He was stupid, so stupid, he-

Sam kissed him back. A lot.

_Damn._

Sam’s hands were cupping either side of his face, and his mouth was wide open, urging Dean’s tongue in and kissing him as if it were the last thing he’d ever do. Dean pulled away, to fucking  _breathe_ , for christ’s sake, and looked up at Sam disbelievingly. 

"Sam," he said, mouth hanging open. "Sam-"

Sam cut him off by moving on top of him, and pressing his lips hungrily against Dean’s, catching his bottom lip in his teeth and tugging. Dean made a pitiful sound and grabbed at Sam’s shoulders, needing him to be closer, and Sam hummed against his mouth as he complied.

Sam sank down against him, shirt riding up to practically his abs, and Dean felt Sam’s hard-on grind against hip.

Dean broke off the continuing kisses with a wet sound. “Shit, shit, Sam…” Sam ducked back at him quickly, and Dean moaned against his mouth, his own dick quickly getting erect.

Oh, this was  _so_  out of hand.

Sam made a sort of purring noise, licking at the spittle on Dean’s lip before kissing him again, simultaneously reaching back and putting Dean’s hands on his ass.

Dean pushed Sam’s mouth away again, groaning. “Sam… Sam, we’re… we…”

Sam leaned in close, watching him with heavy eyes as their noses brushed. He laughed, low in his chest. “Believe me, I know.”

He started grinding slowly against Dean, agonizingly slow, sending an electric shock straight to Dean’s dick. Dean’s vision went white. This just wasn’t fair. This was his little brother, this was  _Sammy._

Hips bucking up against Sam, urging him to move faster, he slipped his hands under Sam’ boxers and squeezed his ass, desperately trying to pull them together and mash their bodies against each other.

Still kissing Dean sloppily, Sam made an annoyed sound and reached back to slide his boxers all the way off his ass. Dean was only too happy to help, and soon they had then around Sam’s ankles. He kicked them off and didn’t care to see where they went. He had to stop kissing Dean for a moment to sit up and throw his shirt off, but the look on Dean’s face was totally fucking worth it.

Dean’s eyes scraped over him, chest heaving and eyelids at half-mast. He looked over Sam’s chest, and down at his hips and finally rested on his dick. 

It was long, so  _fucking_  long and slightly skinny. Pretty and pale, except for the head which was bright red and shiny with precome. It was veiny and Sam was completely shaved down there. Dean felt lightheaded.

"You’re huge," Dean choked out.

Sam made a “tsk”ing noise, helping Dean out of his own boxers. “You upset that your little brother has a bigger dick than you, Dean?” he asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible. 

"Oh, shut up," Dean breathed out, letting his head flop back on the pillow and closing his eyes.

He felt Sam’s hands run over his body, cataloging him. They circled around his tattoo, then around his nipples, before sliding down his chest and across his hips. Dean jolted when Sam abruptly closed a hand around Dean’s own dick, which was thick and surrounded by a patch of wiry hair. 

But Sam didn’t do anything— he let go soon after, cupping Dean’s balls briefly before laying down on top of Dean and kissing him lazily. Deans hands pinched at Sam’s ass and then between his cheeks. He pressed a finger lightly into Sam’s hole, and he gasped, lifting up from Dean’s kiss and staring at him, face flushed.

"Do you want that?" Dean asked roughly, practically growling at Sam.

Sam nodded quickly, his hair falling in front of his face. Dean brushed it behind his ear. He removed his finger and shoved Sam at him, feeling as if he’d been deprived from touching Sam his entire life. They kissed over and over, to make up for lost time. Dean’s hands went around Sam’s waist, then back down to his ass, then clawed at his back. Sam’s own hands rested on Dean’s chest, anchoring him. 

He never wanted to let go of Sam, but he really needed the lube. One hand slipped off of Sam and fumbled for the desk drawer knob, eventually finding it and rifling under bullets and cassettes to find the small bottle he was looking for. Jackpot. He popped the cap off with his thumb. Murmuring an apology to Sam, he took his other hand away from Sam’s back and squirted lube all over his fingers. Sam watched him silently.

He gave Sam a questioning glance, and Sam rolled his eyes and nodded. As Dean moved his fingers over Sam’s hole, Sam bucked backward, squirming and trying to get Dean inside him. Dean laughed.

"Calm down, sweetie," he said, and used his other hand to grab the back of Sam’s neck and bring him back in for a kiss. 

Sam’s legs on either side of Dean’s hips, he couldn’t help but rub up against Sam as he slowly pushed a second finger inside his brother.

Sam moaned against his kiss, rocking back onto Dean’s hand.

Dean caught Sam off guard by pressing a third finger in, not bothering to take it slowly this time. He was barely moving his hand at all— Sam was doing most of the work, lowering himself down and then back up again.

Sam was still tight and warm around Dean’s fingers when he detached his mouth from Dean’s and sat upright. He took Dean’s hands away and set them on his hips.

"I need more," he gasped. 

Dean wanted to say no, but he was currently arching back and fucking between Sam’s asscheeks, so it was hard to get anything coherent out and he certainly wasn’t sending the right signals.

"I need to ride you," Sam said, and positioned himself over Dean’s dick and lowered himself down just inches.

"Fuuuu _uuuuuck_ ,” Dean ground out, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Shit, you’re so tight,”

Sam bit his lip and lowered himself further, throwing his head back and moaning loudly. Dean was momentarily grateful they weren’t in a motel right now— every other person in the whole fucking complex would’ve been woken up by that.

"Sam I don’t think you should-"

"Shut up," Sam growled back at him, his voice several octaves deeper than Dean thought possible. "Get me the lube."

Dean passed the bottle to Sam, who gently lifted himself off of Dean and slathered Dean’s dick and his hole with lube, before lowering himself all the way down and throwing the bottle to who-knows-where.

"Sam…." Dean’s voice was thin and high, and he couldn’t say anymore when Sam leaned forward, stretched out over his brother, and kissed Dean slowly, moving himself up and down on Dean’s dick with a careful rhythm as he did so.

"Oh god, shit, how do you do that so well?!" Dean asked, gasping, not caring how high his voice went.

"I practice by myself," Sam said, conversationally.

Dean didn’t even give a response, only dug his nails further into Sam’s hips and bucked furiously up into him. He was worried about how Sam’s ass was take all of this, but not enough to stop. Sam felt perfect.

Sam sat up straighter, arching his back and moving faster, practically bouncing on Dean’s dick.

"Get back here and kiss me," Dean demanded, and Sam smiled sweetly, swiveling his hips and slowing down his movements as he bent down to kiss Dean. His dick rubbed against Dean’s belly, and Dean curled a hand around it, stroking quickly.

Sam whimpered, and sped up again, the whole bed moving and squeaking beneath them. They used too much lube— but the dirty sound of Dean’s dick sliding in and out of Sam’s ass was the hottest thing to Dean.

Sam’s moans had turned to panting. He’d kiss and break off to pant intermittently, his breaths getting shorter and shorter. Dean knew he was close. 

Dean was, too. One hand still frantically rubbing off Sam, the other one went to the back of Sam’s head, knotting in his hair and keeping his face pressed to Dean’s.

Sam was nonstop whimpering, high and whiny, and Dean felt full of tension. He pushed Sam’s mouth away. Sam nipped at his neck instead. “Stay with me, Sammy,” he grunted. ‘Come on, together we’ll-“

Everything went white as he came inside of Sam, and Sam came with a short yell. Panting like a dog and sweating ridiculously, he climbed off of Dean and practically fell down next to him, stroking himself a few more times to finish. Dean did likewise. 

They were messy, and sticky, and sweaty, but Dean couldn’t give less of a fuck. “I can’t believe we just did that,”

"I’m glad," Sam said breathlessly. "I’ve been wanting to for years."

"Don’t get me wrong, me too, but," he exhaled. "that is not what I was expecting when I went to sleep. Kinda glad for the nightmares now. Good wingmen."

Sam laughed hoarsely. “Looks like I’ll have to stick around to fight them off, then,”

Dean felt something warm in his chest. “Looks like,” he agreed, smiling lazily.

Sam got up to get a washcloth and clean themselves up, and tried to cover up a wince as he headed into the bathroom. Dean didn’t bother to hide the fact he was staring at Sam’s ass, and felt a smug satisfaction that he was the cause of Sam’s little walking issue.

When Sam came back and wiped everything up, he instantly settled back into his old position of being pressed against Dean’s side, limbs splayed over him, but this time sans-clothes. Dean savored in the feeling of Sam’s skin against his, and slowly ran his fingers through Sam’s hair as Sam drifted off to sleep.

When Dean finally fell asleep himself, the nightmares left him alone now that he had Sam there by his side, like he was supposed to be.


End file.
